Sharon turned, grabbed a pen, scrawled her name with a flourish, and then swept out of the police station with Torrin in tow.
Torrin was thrown into the car. Once Sharon was inside, she grabbed him by the collar and slapped him across his already reddened face.
Smack!
Smack!
Smack!
Smack!
After four hard slaps, Sharon stared at him, her eyes burning.
"Are you awake now?" she gritted out.
Torrin, stunned by the assault, finally managed to stammer, "You've never been in love… you wouldn't understand how I feel…"
Before he could finish—
Smack!
Another slap, harder than the last, landed on his face, drawing a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth.
It was too humiliating. If people knew, they'd say, “Oh, so she's just like any other woman.” She was the heiress of the Dillon family, a top-tier socialite in Regal City. Actively pursuing someone would be seen as desperate, a step down from her pedestal.
So she had chosen to remain on her pedestal, vowing to stay away from love and romance. That was why she had been so happy to find her idiot brother. As long as he got married and had children, the pressure would be off her.
Seeing that Sharon still wouldn't talk, Torrin huffed, "Fine, don't tell me. It's not like I care."
"Then shut up," she snapped.
"Fine!" he shot back, turning to stare angrily out the window. The scenery blurred past, mirroring the storm of emotions in his heart.
After a long while, he took a deep breath and said with resignation, "Don't worry. I won't bother Larissa anymore."

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